Robert peered out. “Poor Karn’s a wallflower,” he whispered.
“Shhh!” Hal knew his brother was trying to dispel the tension, but there was nothing humorous about Marin Karn.
What with the music and the announcements and all, Hal didn’t think they could be heard, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
King Jarat sat on a raised dais at the far end of the room, his mother and younger sister at his side. One by one, the loyal thanes and their ladies were introduced and walked the length of the room to pay their respects to the king. Botetort, Beauchamp, and Larue, each with his lady on his arm. And then the guests from the far reaches of the empire—the ambassador from Bruinswallow, the Thane of We’enhaven, the Lord Governor of Tamron, and the Lord of the Isles.
The walls were lined with blackbirds—no, King’s Guards—sleek in their dress uniforms. Intermingled with them were officers from the regular army. Their assignment tonight would be to dance with any lady in need of a partner. They were armed, though, and from their expressions and posture, they seemed to be expecting trouble.
To Hal’s relief, the king summoned Karn Senior to meet the military governor of Watergate, or some such. Once he walked away, Hal and Robert were free to slide out from behind the drapes. They joined the perimeter of social conscripts and waited.
The king really had spared no expense. The ceilings were covered with billows of silk that met in the middle. From that midpoint dangled a huge red hawk made of papier-mâché—the kind that held prizes and candies. Masked servers walked around the room, offering smoked snails, quail eggs, and caviar, along with little biscuits filled with roast meat. Liquor was flowing at several bars. One entire wall was given to desserts.
On any other night, Hal would have taken advantage, given his long period of ascetic living in the north. But tonight his stomach was tied in knots, and he was in no hurry to chance these fancy foods.
It wasn’t long before there was a stir in the entryway, signaling new arrivals. There was Destin Karn, gliding across the dance floor to speak to the king, who smiled and nodded. Hal watched with interest as Karn Junior and Senior exchanged stiff nods, their body language as hostile as could be.
They really don’t like each other, Hal thought, recalling his conversation with Destin Karn at Newgate. I wonder why.
Karn Junior spoke hurriedly to the band, which played a fanfare, bringing everyone’s attention to the dais.
Jarat stood, Queen Marina and Princess Madeleine beside him. “Welcome to the heartbeat of the empire,” he said. “Celebrations with good friends and allies are important, even amid the uncertainties of war. We have with us tonight some of the fairest flowers of the realm. Though some in their families have taken up arms against us, we have invited them to join us in the hope that this gesture might be a first step in reaching a permanent peace.”
“That’s a shitload of scummer,” Robert murmured.
“When a king is shoveling it, you listen and you smile,” Hal said, clapping along with the other guests.
“Ladies, come forward,” King Jarat said.
And they came, straight-backed women ushering their children, walking the length of the room, and curtsying before the royal family. As they did so, the royal crier called out their names. “Lady Patrice DeLacroix and children. Lady Christina Heresford and children. Lady Danielle Oberon.”
“He’s not using their titles,” Robert muttered.
“It’s likely he’s given their titles away. From what I hear, he’s been handing them out like candy.”
“Lady Beatrice Scoville.”
“There’s Aunt Beatrice,” Robert said, frowning. “She looks a lot thinner than before.”
Hal scanned the line of waiting families, sure he would recognize Harper and his mother despite the masks. When he didn’t see them, sweat began trickling down the back of his neck. Was this just some kind of cruel trick or trap?
Just as he was beginning to panic, the crier called, “Lady Marjorie Scoville Matelon and daughter Harper Scoville Matelon.”
Hal’s heart twisted as they walked forward, hand in hand, chins up, eyes straight ahead. It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized them. For one thing, they were thinner, especially Harper, but that was partly because she was so much taller than the last time he’d seen her. When was that? More than a year ago? She’d pinned her hair up, too, which he wasn’t used to.
Hal’s breath caught when he saw something glittering at Harper’s neckline. It was the thimble.
“Did you see that?” Robert whispered. “It was—”
“I know,” Hal said, his voice thick. He still didn’t trust Destin Karn, but he’d kept that promise, at least.
Anger nudged aside everything else as the Matelon ladies curtsied before the king and then moved off to the side, where the hostages huddled in a small group, as if unsure what to do next. As if they’d been invited to a party with people they had nothing in common with.
Robert took a step forward, but Hal put out a hand to stop him. “Wait until there’s more mingling before we beeline to them. In the meantime, why don’t you ask someone to dance?”
His brother gave him an irritated look, then crossed to the gathering of down-realm guests and bowed to an especially lovely young lady wearing a half-mask. Moments later, the band had struck up again, and he was out on the floor with her.
Others among the wall-hangers were moving out into the throng, choosing unescorted ladies, offering their arms. Hal’s heart beat faster as he walked toward the gathered hostages, but somebody got there before him.
“Ladies,” the masked interloper said, bowing deeply to Harper and his mother. “May I just say that you look absolutely bewitching this evening.”
Hal detoured a bit and walked past them, stopping within earshot, pretending to sample sweets from a platter.
“Granger,” Hal’s mother said, her back stiff with disapproval, her voice icy. She and Harper dipped into the briefest of curtsies.
“Actually, it is Lord Granger now,” he
